


Third Plate Out

by misura



Category: Focus (2015)
Genre: Christmas Dinner, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-23
Updated: 2016-11-23
Packaged: 2018-09-07 22:43:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8819020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: Bucky comes to dinner.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [valkyrierising](https://archiveofourown.org/users/valkyrierising/gifts).



"Three plates, Jess. Not two."

She was quick - one of the (many, many) things he liked about her. "You invited your _dad_? After what he did? And you didn't even _tell_ me?"

Dumb mistake: he should have stepped in before she got to that third point.

"Hey, you were there, same as me - and _not_ busy bleeding to death. Trust me, someone like Dad tells you he'll see you at Christmas, he'll see you. 'course, doesn't have to mean we'll see _him_ , but, you know. It's Christmas."

"You weren't bleeding to death. You were drowning in your own blood."

"Details," he said. "C'mon, Jess. For me?"

"He'd better bring a really great gift," she said, slamming down a third plate. "And wine."

 

The evening started off promising: no police, no mob guys, and no SWAT, either.

"Well, shit, Mellow. You still haven't traded her in for a new model? No offense, honey."

"Offense taken," Jess said, which got her a faint, fleeting smile (as in: more than _he'd_ gotten, so far).

"Don't take it as an insult to your looks. Take it as a compliment to your intelligence. Guys like Mellow - they're one-trick ponies. I love you, you love me, but then, when that's getting old, what do you have to talk about? The sex doesn't last, you know. Sooner or later, it all goes."

"Thanks, Dad. Really."

"Just telling it like it is." Bucky pointedly glanced in the direction of the kitchen. "So am I going to be fed here, or am I going to have to sing or something? I should warn you, my singing voice isn't what it used to be. 'course, considering what people call music nowadays, that doesn't really matter."

"I'll go get the soup," Jess said, rising. There was a hint of relief to her expression.

"None of that microwaved shit, right?"

 

"So what's with the grumpy old dude act?"

Bucky shrugged. He was subtle about keeping an eye on the kitchen entrance, but then, he would be.

"Puts people at ease. You complain about everything, they reckon they're some sort of special for being allowed to talk to you. Go figure. Wouldn't recommend it for you, yet - not with _those_ looks."

"I want this to work out."

"You think I don't?" Bucky asked. "Well, fuck you very much. You think that just because you're my son, I don't want to see you happy? That I can't keep a civil tongue in my head for one goddamn night? It's Christmas, for crying out loud. Peace on earth, goodwill towards one's fellow man - any of that ring a bell?"

"One of the best times of the year to work. Doesn't matter where you are, or who you're pretending to be - at Christmas, everyone's a sucker. Your words."

"Well, I say a lot of shit," Bucky said. "You should know that, better than anyone."

 

"That is a really nice watch," Jess said, halfway the main course - some sort of meat thing, with vegetables and potatoes. Not too expensive, but good.

Bucky'd gone for two helpings already, and Nicky was reasonably sure that Jess would be manipulated into talking him into taking a third. "Why, thank you, honey."

"Looks expensive," he said. _Not_ the best way to try and convince Jess not to go for it, probably, but then, that was probably a lost cause, anyway.

Plus, it'd be kind of fun if she'd actually manage to pull it off.

"Cheap piece of shit, really." Bucky poured himself some wine, topping off Jess's glass while he was at it. Leaving Nicky's empty, just to remind him who was a total asshole around here. "But hey, it tells the time - accurately, often as not. That's good enough for me."

"Not _that_ cheap," Jess mumbled. Girl knew her watches, after all.

"Well, these things are relative, aren't they?" Bucky said.

"Right. I almost forgot. You pulled off that big score last year, didn't you? What was it - thirty, forty mille?" Nicky'd have cut him in. Toledo panic button or not, he'd have played it straight.

Just because a guy shot you in the chest, that didn't mean he wasn't still your partner - not even if he was also kind of the closest thing you had to a dad.

"Know what else you can't afford in this line of work?" Bucky asked Jess. "I mean, this love shit - that's bad, but there's a kind of trade-off, you know? But one thing that'll screw you up worse than love, it's holding grudges. You played, you lost - time to let it go and move on to the next score, Mellow."

"We've been working on that," Jess said, a little too quickly.

"So you've got, what? Beauty and beauty? 'cause I'm not seeing a lot of brains here, or brawn."

"For your information, I've got plenty of brains. So does Jess," Nicky said.

Bucky scoffed. "Soft science shit. Congratulations, you can make someone scratch their ass when you've got an itch. Oh, I'm sure the ladies just love you - again, no offense, honey, but by the end of the night, what's _that_ going to get you? A fuck's a fuck."

Jess cleared her throat. "More potatoes, anyone?"

Bucky smiled at her and held out his plate. "Don't mind if I do."

 

Dessert was ice cream. Supposedly genuine Italian, but probably not.

"You know, this wasn't so bad," Bucky said. "I mean, once a year's plenty, don't get me wrong, but this sort of thing - it's okay, Mellow. Just - next year, the two of you should come over to my place. I'll cook."

"Fantastic," Nicky said. "I'll put the police _and_ the fire department on speed dial."

Bucky scowled at him and turned to Jess. "I'm a good cook, you know. Tried to teach him, but as it turned out, that was one more lesson that wouldn't stick. Honestly, I'm a lousy father."

"Finally, something we can all agree on," Nicky said, raising his glass. It was empty, but it was the gesture that counted, the intent. The chance, however small, of getting a reaction.

"So who'd you get to clean me out?" Bucky asked, swirling his wine.

Nicky chuckled. "Sorry, what?"

"One time of the year you knew I wouldn't be home - it's the perfect chance. Don't tell me you didn't take it. I mean, forgiveness is all very grand, but in the end, money's money."

"You think I'd rob you. At Christmas. You're kidding me, right?"

Bucky sipped his wine. "Just want to know if I should brace myself for yet another fucking disappointment. I mean, there've been so many already - what's one more, right? Truth is, it adds up, Mellow. It all adds up. So come on. Do that thing you do. Be a good, honest man. You think I wouldn't notice you've been calling me 'Dad' all night? When's the last time _that_ happened?"

"So what if he did?" Jess said. Her voice was sharp - too sharp.

"I'd say good for you and well done, sir. _If_ he had the balls to have actually done it. Well? How about it, Mellow?"

"Yes," Nicky said. "Happy now?"

"Son, I'm delighted." Bucky smiled. "Fact, I brought this special bottle of wine, just in case we'd have something to celebrate - Jess, honey, why don't you go and open it up?"

"I left you half," Nicky said.

Bucky closed his eyes. "On second thought, I'll be taking that bottle back home with me."

"You're fucking unbelievable, you know that?"

Bucky tut-tutted. "Be grateful I let you keep the watch."


End file.
